My truth

WARNING: The following blogpost is EXTREMELY personal and (for some reason I cannot understand) may be offensive to some.

I'm just going to come out and say it. Three years ago I had an abortion. It was February and I returned home after traveling around the world with my best friend for six months. It had been the most epic six months of my life and, congruently, the most challenging. I missed my friends, my boyfriend, my bed and clean bathroom. But my trip home was temporary- the plan was to go back to Australia and finish our way around the world. Well, we all know what they say about the best laid plans..

Now I know what you're thinking right now. Girl returns home from traveling the world and has an abortion? What a floozy, she must have gotten impregnated by some random backpacker in Sydney, right? Fucking wrong and fuck you for judging someone you don't know.

The truth is I was madly in love with someone. Someone who, as I've recently come to realize, had no idea what love is or how to love  me. At the time though I thought he was my soulmate, I thought I would spend the rest of my life with him, I thought he was my best friend. Anyway this someone decided he couldn't let me leave again, he wanted to "change his life" and believed the best way to do this was to have a baby. No, no, no, I explained to him in the dark of his bedroom, that is not how you do things. You have to change your life because you want to, you have to change it for yourself. Then, when you're satisfied with who you are and the life you live you can have a baby. But you don't use human life to pressure yourself to be better.

He didn't listen to me.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking again. This girl should have been on birth control and none of this would have ever happened right? WRONG AGAIN. Why does the responsibility and blame always fall on the female? Doesn't the responsibility belong to both parties? I'm not on birth control because it doesn't work with my body. I've tried LITERALLY every birth control there is, I've been on it since I was 11 years old because I suffer from endometriosis. Trust me, I wish I could be on birth control- it would omit a ton of unnecessary suffering from my life each month. But the fact of the matter is it doesn't work for me, I get depressed and suicidal, I experience very unpleasant physical reactions, etc. Bottom line is it doesn't work for me. So suspend your god damn judgments a little longer please.

The fact of the matter is he didn't listen to me. In fact, he did one of the most despicable things I've ever heard of another human doing. He got me pregnant on purpose. And no, I'm not being a crazy girl, he admitted he got me pregnant on purpose. He was afraid to lose me, he was miserable in the suburbs of New Jersey and misery loves company. He wanted to tie me down and keep me for himself. So he got me pregnant on purpose.

I'll never forget the morning I found out. It was quite a mind fuck honestly- the night before I started spotting. I guess it was all the new hormones flooding my body. But I thought I got my period (ahhhh, sigh of relief! Don't lie- you know you've been there). I went to an all white party in the city with my friends and drank at the open bar. We danced, we laughed, we had a great time. We returned home and my boyfriend had been up drinking with his buddies. We ended up getting in a huge blow out fight and my friends drove my hysterical ass home.

I can't tell you what made me want to take a test, I truly don't know. Call it intuition if you're desperate for an explanation but honestly it was some sort of cosmic coincidence, some random gut feeling that I felt when I awoke and realized the spotting stopped. So I took a test and, to my surprise, it was positive. I took a photo and sent it to the guy but it was early and we had been up late so I knew he wasn't going to read it for hours. I couldn't wait. I drove 45 minutes to where he was, let myself into the apartment and woke him up. I threw the test at him. I was terrified. I was confused. I was heartbroken and felt taken advantage of. I called him names. He awoke perplexed but once he realized what was going on came to rather quickly. We drove to the nearest park to talk. There was snow on the ground.
"What are we going to do?" I asked him, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"We'll figure it out. We will make it work. I love you, I want to spend my life with you, let's do this."

I'm not an idiot. I'm not an irresponsible person. I'm not weak. But I was in love and I am a woman which means my most basic instinct is to reproduce. More than that, I'm a very nurturing person, I LOVE babies and I really, really loved this person. So of course it was ridiculous to think we could start a family, neither of us even had jobs let alone health insurance, savings, our own place to live, etc. But in that moment when he was holding me and staring at me with his piercing blue eyes telling me he loved me and we could make it work I believed him. And I started to love the idea, I started wanting it, getting comfortable with it even. So I agreed.

I called my best friend and told her sorry, I can't go back to Australia with you, I can't go anywhere. I called the gynecologist and made an appointment. I started taking prenatal vitamins. Our closest friends knew but despite all of this I kept my condition private, I was afraid still, somehow I knew what was coming. He wasn't afraid though- one night after his show I overheard him share the news with acquaintances of ours. They congratulated me and quickly the word spread. That night I went home and told my parents. My father was furious, my step mother cried but I assured them that this was what I wanted and that my boyfriend would support me through it. Boy, was I wrong.

The following morning I received a text message.
"We can't do this. It's wrong. It just isn't right MacKenzie."







The world came crashing down around me. How could he do this? He promised.. he told me.. he.. he..






He was a coward. He was selfish. He was immature and irresponsible and cruel. He was fucking cruel. He took advantage of me, of my body, he treated me and my body and our fucking baby like we were disposable.

Of course, of course, of COURSE, I didn't HAVE to have an abortion. My body, my decision right? But who would force the person they love more than anything in the world into a life they didn't want?? (Him, obviously..) Not me. And what woman wants to raise a baby alone? Not me. Everything about it suddenly felt wrong, I would never make him give up his life and force him to have a baby with me. I would never ask him to give up his dreams if he didn't want to. (Again, clearly he would but.. this is what I meant when I said he didn't know how to love) Not to mention everyone we knew would look down upon me, who knows what they would say about me. And not that that matters to me but it would to my unborn child. And I didn't want to hurt the man I loved nor the child I now so desperately wanted (and, for the record, fucking loved. Hard. Harder than I've ever loved anything in the world) so, after a lot of crying, fighting, pleading, etc. I agreed. We couldn't have a baby, it was irresponsible, it wouldn't be a good life for anyone involved. We would have an abortion and he would be by my side through it and then we would be over. So the day came and went. I'll spare you the details but I will tell you it was extremely difficult, painful, it broke me - broke me into a million tiny pieces and left me empty, cold and alone. And after that day he was gone. He went to play music and drink beer with his friends and I went home to my bedroom and cried. Every day. For a month. Maybe longer. I'm not sure how long it was to be honest, I didn't care how many days passed, I didn't care what anyone said to me, I didn't care about anything. I just felt broken and empty and alone.

It wasn't just the abortion though, I had lost my best friend. Actually, I had lost my two best friends. One I had let down, the other had let me further down than I thought possible. The person I trusted most in the world, the person I told everything to, the man I thought I was going to marry, who knew my deepest, darkest secrets, my idiosyncrasies, my SOUL, betrayed me. He used me, made me empty promises and when the pressure of the world came down on him he abandoned me. And our child. All of it. I thought I'd never heal, I'd never trust again, I'd never love again.

So I did what I usually do when something goes wrong: I ran away. I went to Florida to be with my mother, reapplied to the school I had dropped out of to be with him and spent the summer in Jersey working and partying, filling the void with alcohol and anyone who wasn't him. Until he missed me enough to reach out to me. I caved. I found comfort in his familiarity and the fact that he was the only human on the planet who had any sort of idea what I had been through and how tragic it was. Fucked up, right? Really fucked up. But that's the reality of it. So I suffered through four more years of being in love with him, of him dropping me when he found something else that interested him, dropping me when his friends convinced him he should be doing something else like hopping trains and squatting in abandoned buildings. I hurt a lot of people who cared about me because I couldn't let him go.

Finally he did it again. Well, not entirely. He just thought he did. I went home for my brothers wedding and he, unbeknownst to me, thought he got me (accidentally) pregnant again. When it was time for me to go back to school he dropped me off at the airport, kissed me, told me he loved me, and I was on my way. I didn't hear from him for five days until he called me crying, telling me he was fucked up, didn't know what to do. He kept telling me he was so confused. It turns out the night he brought me to the airport he kissed another girl and was questioning if he wanted to be with me. That mother fucker thought he got me pregnant again and AGAIN was going to abandon me, this time for some random girl from Montana. It almost didn't even hurt anymore. But... let's be real.. of course it fucking hurt. But I finally realized that I needed to let him go.

It wasn't that easy. I told him it was over. He'd call me randomly. We'd cry, we'd reminisce on all the good times, I'd get angry, lash out, say mean things to him. I thought I was dealing with everything but in reality I was clinging on to something that had been lost a long time ago. I acknowledged that we were too different to be together anymore, that I would never trust him, that he would never grow up or out of whatever he is. But I'd still respond when he texted me, I'd still answer when he called. This when on until last week. I landed in Thailand and the first thing I saw when I opened my phone was a text from him.

"I just want to be with you."

Comical, isn't it? And even though I told him that would never happen, just the fact that I responded gave him power over me, led him on even to think that maybe one day...

Then yesterday we sat in meditation for fifteen minutes. Sometimes when I'm falling asleep or meditating or dreaming even I see faces. And I perceive them as the faces of my aborted child. And these faces haunt me, they ruin me, they fill me with regret, grief, anger, anxiety, they widen the gaping hole inside of me where my heart used to be. They make me cry. And as we were meditating I saw one of these faces. I started to cry. I kept meditating but tears were streaming down my face. Suddenly I realized that I was in control of my perception of my own thoughts. I didn't HAVE to perceive this phenomenon as me being haunted by my abortion. I was in control of my own mind and I could change this. But simply understanding and acknowledging this doesn't make it easier, it doesn't stop the pain. In fact, it did the opposite- it made me feel it. Really fucking feel it. After meditation I left the class and went to my room. By the time I arrived I was sobbing, dry heaving, red in the face, falling over from the pain and sorrow. I became hysterical. But I didn't want anyone to see me so I threw on my keens and hiked up the mountain, past the chalets, up, up, further until I was exhausted. I found a bridge with water running below and paused. I began to think "I can forgive myself, I can forgive him, I can let go" and then I started saying it aloud, hoping somehow I might believe it.

I didn't. I kept crying. The words stung the back of my throat, they felt restricted, they were hard to swallow. But I kept repeating myself over and over again. Suddenly I realized "can" and "will" are two very different things so I changed the language to "I will forgive myself, I will forgive him, I will let go" but still something felt wrong. I was afraid to say his name out loud but knew I had to, I knew I had to swallow it, had to hear it out loud to believe it. So once again I changed the language of my mantra.

"I will forgive myself, I will forgive ****, I will let go."

I paused in my hike, realizing I hadn't told anyone where I was going, realizing they might be worried. So I began to descend. Two gorgeous blue and black butterflies fluttered around me, dancing in the Thai jungle until one landed on a leaf just inches in front of me. I stopped and we stared at each other for a few moments. I could feel myself changing but didn't understand exactly in what ways. When I started to walk again I felt it. Ding ding ding.. MacKenzie you dumbass, fetuses the size of a quarter don't have faces. There's no way these faces that you think are haunting you could be the faces of the child you aborted, that thing wasn't a child, it didn't have a face, it was a collection of cells. I thought again of perception. Perhaps I could spin this to work for me.. perhaps... perhaps.. perhaps those faces I was seeing were the faces of my children... the ones I hadn't had yet. The ones I would have one day when I was ready, when I decided I wanted to start a family, when I was with someone who loved me, truly loved me, who would love our children and who would never, ever take advantage of me or treat me like I was disposable. I began speaking aloud again, "I will forgive myself, I will forgive ****, I will let go and find peace knowing that the faces I see are not the faces of my aborted fetuses, but the faces of my unborn children, the ones I have not had yet but will when I am ready" over and over and over and over again I said it out loud, crying through the words, shaking on the insides, until eventually it didn't hurt anymore. Until eventually I believed it. It felt real, true, it felt honest.

I got back to the bungalows and sat with Sam. We talked about it. I told her I was still holding onto him for all of this time because I was still angry, grieving, still heartbroken and looking for comfort. He was the only person who understood, he was the only person I could take those feelings out on. He was the only person I could express my self pity, grief, sorrow, anger and regret to. But it wasn't serving me any longer. In fact, it was hurting me to keep holding onto these thoughts and emotions, it was hurting us both. I was leading him on letting him think he was even worthy of a second of my time and I was harming myself by allowing him to have any sort of power of me. I couldn't carry the weight anymore, I couldn't keep cycling through this unhealthy pattern, I had to let go, move past it, find peace. And that's fucking scary because it's all I've known for years now but it's what needed to be done and I could feel the shift inside.. I could feel the change... I could feel that I was finally ready. So I told her more. And I told a few more friends. And it felt really good. One friend told me he loved me more for sharing with him, he actually thanked me. Thanked me? For sharing my ugliest parts?

No. He thanked me for my honesty, for my vulnerability, for my openness. And then I realized I wasn't empty, I wasn't angry, I wasn't grieving any longer. I was open, I was able to express those feelings with people besides the one person who hurt me the most. I didn't need to hold onto **** any longer because I had other people in my life who loved me, TRULY loved me, in every meaning of the word. People who wanted to help me heal, who wanted to listen, who didn't pity me but rather saw me as strong and resilient. People who appreciate me, my story, my path, my love and light, people who want to grow with me, who would never treat me like I was disposable, who would never disrespect me. People who believe in me, share my hopes, dreams and aspirations. The good kind of people. The kind I want. So I no longer need to hold onto that toxic person, I no longer need to hold onto my self pity and regret. I don't need to regret anything because none of it was a mistake. None of it. The perfect universe gave me the perfect amount of obstacles to make me the best version of myself. The trauma I experienced made me stronger. As a result of this terrible situation I went back to school. My best friend stayed in New Jersey and opened up a successful yoga studio and met the love of her life, her future husband. I found my path, I graduated college, I made a place for myself in the world. Hell, if it hadn't happened I wouldn't be in Thailand right now training to be a yoga teacher. None of us would. So today in class when we spoke about it the girls thanked me. And it made me cry, of course. But it felt good. It felt like it had all been for something, something larger than me.

So today I began to forgive myself. I even began to forgive him (after blocking his number, of course). I began to let go and eventually I know I will find peace.

Om, shanti, shanti, shanti.